emperor's country houses, but he cut off its head that it might not fall again into the hands of the Christians. … I have been in to see the town; it could not have held out five more days. The imperial palace is honey-combed with bullets, the bastions in a terrible state with great pieces of the walls about to fall over, like masses of rock. All the troops of the allies have done their duty well; they attribute the victory to God and to us. The greatest shock of the battle was just opposite where I was, in front of the vizier; and at the moment the enemy began to yield, the elector of Bavaria, the prince of Waldeck, and the other generals crowded round me embracing me, the soldiers and officers on foot and horseback crying, "Our brave king!" and kissing my feet. In the town they called me their "saviour." I went into two churches, where the people kissed my hands and feet and coat, crying, "Let us touch your victorious hands."
He does not mention the text of a sermon preached in Vienna on that day — "There was a man sent by God, and his name was John."
But the day is just beginning to break, and I must finish this letter. God is indeed great. Let us render glory and honor to him for it, now and forever. I cannot longer enjoy this pleasant tete-a-tete with you. We have lost a great number of men, but we shall march today to pursue the enemy into Hungary: the electors say they will accompany me. The heat is most oppressive.
The princes of Bavaria and Saxony will follow me to the end of the world, but we must get over the first two miles quickly, for the smell and infection from so large a number of corpses of men, horses, and camels, is insupportable.
The emperor is a mile and a half away. I perceive that he has no great wish to see me, so I shall make room for him, and am very, glad to escape all the ceremonies that are going to take place in Vienna.
To-day we are pushing on, but I feel sure that the Germans will not budge. I have sent the elector of Saxony, as a remembrance, two richly caparisoned horses, two Turkish standards, etc., etc. He is gone back with his army after having expressed his resentment against the emperor very vehemently.
Sept. 17. — I have had my interview with the emperor yesterday. He arrived at Vienna some hours after my departure. Not expecting to see him after so many delays, I sent him, as a compliment in memory of our victory, one of the standards of the vizier.
Leopold had taken every pains to show that he felt no gratitude to or interest in his deliverer, but finding that Sobieski had literally begun his march from Vienna, he sent an awkward message to him intimating that he did not know how etiquette would allow him to receive an elected king. When the dilemma was laid before Charles of Lorraine, he replied, "With open arms if he has saved the empire!" But Sobreski does not mention this little passage at arms.
I proposed that we should meet on horseback, I in front of my army, he before his and his capital. I need not describe him to you; his appearance is well known; he wore an embroidered surcoat and a hat with white and red plumes. I made my compliments in Latin in very few words. He replied in the same way. [Sobieski again does not give his answer to the emperor's cold and awkward address — "I am very glad, sire, to have rendered you this little service."] I presented my son; the emperor did not even put his hand to his cap. To avoid scandal I said a few words more to him, and then turned my horse; we saluted, and I went back to my camp. He then went on to look at our army with the palatine of Russia, but our people are extremely piqued, and complain openly that the emperor did not deign to thank them for all the privations and pains they have endured, even by saluting them.
Our sick have nothing but dung to lie on; the wounded, of whom there are a great number, cannot obtain boats to go down the river to Presburg, where I could have them nursed at my own cost. They refuse to allow our dead to be buried in the cemeteries of Vienna, even the superior officers. They pillage our baggage and carry away the horses following us. A German dragoon struck one of my pages on the face and brought blood, at four steps from me; another tore away my cloak from one of my people. Some of my bodyguard, left near the Turkish cannon we have taken, lost their cloaks, their clothes, and their horses. We have never been in such bad case, and if it had not been for the oats found in the Turkish camp we should have lost all the horses; the misery is so great everywhere that it is difficult to find a truss of hay or any fresh grass; bare fields are all that remain after the passage of these clouds of pagans.
Several of our men having pressed into the town to find some food, as we are dying of hunger in the country, the commandant gave orders to fire upon them. … After such a battle, where we have lost so many men, and officers of our highest families, we are to lose our horses and baggage, and to be left to perish of misery. We are treated as if we had the plague, while before the battle my tents, which, thank God, are spacious enough, could not contain the crowds. We are marching on a still greater famine, but I want to get away from this town of Vienna, where they fire on our people. But tell no one of these subjects of complaint — the old adage says, "Qui ne sait cacher son ennui apprête à rire à l'ennemi." We are like the Israelites by the waters of Babylon, we weep the loss of our horses, the ingratitude of those we have saved, and so many chances of success thrown away.
